Checkmate
by ProfessorElk
Summary: Set after 12x11 "Check." Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs." "Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.
1. Part I

**Checkmate**

By ProfessorElk

_Disclaimer_: The NCIS characters mentioned below are not mine and no profit has been made in the writing or posting of this story.

_Summary_: Set after 12x11 "Check." Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs." "Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.

_Spoilers_: Set after NCIS episode 12x11, "Check." General spoilers for the previous NCIS seasons as well.

**Part I**

He could no longer stand their concerned looks and ill disguised whispers. They followed him everywhere and came from everyone. His team, his boss, the other agents in the building. Even Frank, the night guard had looked at him with pity. It was stifling and restricting, and was a distraction he did not need. What he needed was Sergei Michnev. Preferably dead.

That man had made it personal too long ago for reasons unknown. Killings Banks and the rest of the helo crew was an atrocity by itself, but those innocent navy personnel in the diner, the man left in the snow, and Diane, that was a step too far. Fornell was broken and Emily's world was destroyed. Diane's blood was on his hands, hands that had already been stained a permanent red from too much loss, too much pain.

The joy and childish excitement from his team meeting Rebecca was over. They jumped to attention faster, fingers struck their respective keyboards with more intensity, they stayed later, worked harder, and a tall Styrofoam cup of black coffee from the diner under the bridge was a permanent fixture in his desk, never unfilled. They were showing they cared and were worried, but he could not show his appreciation. It was too hard and if he broke, gave in, he was afraid he would lose his stoicism and drive. Those innocent people, Diane, they deserved the best.

So instead, he buried himself in the job. He had gone over the evidence so many times, he had memorized the information long ago. He pushed his team to do the same, only letting them go home in the early hours of the morning just to sleep long enough to start a new day that was exactly like the last. For their part, they did not complain, they worked tirelessly, and he was proud of them. Damn proud. Not that he could say it in so many words.

It was starting to show on them, and if he could get past his own pain and guilt, he would have seen it himself sooner. Tony had permanent dark circles under his eyes. He was pushing himself too much, trying to support the man who had supported him so much in the past. Ellie tried to hide behind tight smiles and deflect with trips to the vending machine, but her marriage was taking the toll. Too many late nights and early mornings, overtime on weekends and days off, resulted in hurt feelings and blame. She was never home, he could not fault Jake for wanting to see his wife, but how could he allow one wife to retreat to her family while another wife's family was shattered from her loss?

And McGee, loyal Tim who had just lost someone as well. He did not speak of it, he knew any question would be answered with a quick smile that did not quite reach the younger man's eyes and brief assurances that he was fine. He did not have time nor the energy too pull out more from his agent, to be the silent presence that Tim needed after losing his father. He could only focus on one thing and one thing only - killing Sergei Michnev.

When the callout came, he could feel the tendrils of rage seep up from his neck and settle behind his eyes. Storming up to Vance had not gained the desired results, a cool stare and a leveled reply of how it would be good for everyone to take a break was the only answer. He jogged back down the stairs into the bullpen, his agents standing at attention instantly at the sound of his heavy feet. "Dead marine at Rock Creek Park," he answered their unspoken question. Reaching his desk, he opened the top drawer, procuring the van's keys and tossing them to a surprised McGee.

"Gas the truck." Tim instantly went to do as he was told, even though it was a job for a probie. He was almost disgusted what his actions had brought about how his agents were treating him and how he let them do it. It was not fair, it was not right, but he could not deal with it right now.

"Follow the sedan," he instructed Tony on the way to the elevators not waiting until he heard the expected 'Got it, Boss'.

The quietness of the drive helped soothe him, although slightly. He knew Vance was right, that they all needed a break from the Michnev case and his loyal team would not take it unless he forced them to do so. He hated doing it. It went against every fiber of his being, his loyalty to the military, his loyalty to protect the innocent, and the loyalty of a woman who had openly professed her love to him, a love he could never find in his heart to return. But he was loyal to his team too. They needed him to tell them it was okay to rest, as much as it pained him to do so.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he could not help but smile, albeit slightly. Tim was behind the wheel, listening as Tony adamantly explained something, Bishop looking uncomfortable sandwiched between the two men. They were family, and nothing deserved his loyalty more than that.

He was thinking of ways in which he could get them time off after this new case was closed without outright requesting it and thus admitting he was wrong, when his cell phone ringed. Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.

Before he could even begin to comprehend what Sergei Michnev had in mind, the reverberating crack of rifle fire and screeching tires was his answer.

_To be continued…_

**_a/n: Thank you for reading this first installment of my new story – more to come soon!_**


	2. Part II

**Checkmate**

By ProfessorElk

_Disclaimer_: The NCIS characters mentioned below are not mine and no profit has been made in the writing or posting of this story.

_Summary_: Set after 12x11 "Check." Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs." "Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.

_Spoilers_: Set after NCIS episode 12x11, "Check." General spoilers for the previous NCIS seasons as well.

**Part II**

The tires of the sedan screeched to a halt, an expression of shock and horror looking back at him through the reflection of the rearview mirror.

He watched as the inside of the van was splattered with scarlet, the vehicle swerving violently out of its lane, down an embankment, flipping on its side first before coming to rest in the ravine.

He was outside running toward the van before he could put on his emergency lights, cell phone forgotten on the front passenger seat. Smoke was billowing from the engine, large puffs of white and gray against the clear blue January sky.

"No, no, no!" his heart screamed, the wreckage diminishing his hope for survival. He could see them through the spider web cracks of the windshield the three on them hanging only by their safety belts, lifeless.

"DiNozzo! Tony?" No answer.

"Ellie? Talk to me Bishop." Still no response.

"McGee? Come on Tim. Pull yourself together." He was met by silence.

He slid down the embankment, the snow covered ground making his journey faster, and stood helpless in front of the van. Where did he even start?

His only options were to either finish breaking the windshield or to try to open the driver's side door. Breaking the glass would mean risking showering his agents with more cuts, but cuts to the face would mean very little if they bled out from other unseen injuries.

Carefully, he pushed against the cracked glass with the heel of his shoe, cringing as it moaned before shattering. It took several attempts in numerous locations, but he was able to break enough glass that he could crawl inside.

All three were unconscious, or worse, and there was a large stain of red on McGee's otherwise pristine white shirt.

He was not there when it had happened so many years ago, stationed overseas fighting for others when his girls needed him to be fighting for them at home, but he had seen enough crime scene photos to know what event Michnev was recreating. He had lost his entire family then, and he did not know if he could bear it again now.

_To be continued…_

**_a/n: Thank you for all who have taken the time to read my humble little story. I so appreciate it! More is on the way :)_**


	3. Part III

**Checkmate**

By ProfessorElk

_Disclaimer_: The NCIS characters mentioned below are not mine and no profit has been made in the writing or posting of this story.

_Summary_: Set after 12x11 "Check." Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs." "Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.

_Spoilers_: Set after NCIS episode 12x11, "Check." General spoilers for the previous NCIS seasons as well.

* * *

**Part III**

His body ached to pace, emotions bursting and needing an avenue to be released, but his soul was beyond weary. Michnev knew where he was the most vulnerable, what would cause him to crack, and as he ran a tired hand down an exhausted face, posture mimicking what he felt, he wondered if the man succeeded in causing him to crumble.

He could not do this, not again.

The scent of coffee, strong and hot, danced under his nose. Despite the temptation, he remained hunched over, hand hiding his face.

"Um," an uncertain voice began, "I figured you would need this."

He was loathe to admit it, but he wanted to stay hidden behind his hand. The real world was too painful and full of loss. Too many bodies and too much blood. But that voice, that damn voice, how could he deny it after what the owner did?

"Thanks Palmer." He accepted the beverage, trying not to glance at the dried blood caked under the other man's finger nails. It was impossible not to, though. He did not want to see it, but he also could not help himself from looking. Penance, he supposed, for the lives that had almost been lost because of him. Lives that still could be lost.

Jimmy stood awkwardly, trying to look nonchalant, but failing miserably. "They'll be okay," Jimmy declared with false confidence. "We got to them in time."

"You did, Palmer. You got to them."

"We were right behind you in the autopsy van. And Dr. Mallard didn't get us lost again," Jimmy said quietly, almost sheepishly.

"You could've died. He was still out there." His own earlier screams direct toward the encroaching form of the young assistant sliding down the snowy embankment to go back to the safety of the autopsy van reverberated in his mind.

Jimmy shrugged awkwardly. "They needed me."

He tried not to flinch, but the comment stung. His agents needed him to keep them safe. Instead, he lead them into a death trap, making them nothing more than glorified mannequins used to help recreate a scene from the worst moment in his life.

No, they did not need him. In fact, they needed him out of their lives.

He glanced up from his Styrofoam cup to get a look at Palmer's face, which was deep in thought.

"Remember last year when Breena and I were going to adopt and the birth mother decided to keep her baby?"

He nodded minutely, too tired to figure out the point behind this new line of questioning.

"I wanted to give up. It hurt too much to keep going. You said something to me then."

He ducked his head. He was too tired for guessing games.

"You told me to fight for my family, to fight just to have one. He wants you to fall apart Agent Gibbs, to give up. If you let him do that, he wins. You stop fighting for them, he wins. Everyone needs you now to fight for them."

He could not bring himself to look up. He could not let Jimmy see the wetness in his eyes.

"Um," the bravado was gone from Jimmy's voice, replaced by his usual awkwardness. "I'm going to go check with Dr. Mallard. Hopefully he has an update for us."

He did not move from his perch as he listened to Palmer go, the silence of the private hospital waiting room serving to echo the other man's words.

Michnev could not win, he would not let him. He had fought like hell to get this family, he would be damned if he let another person destroy it. They belonged to him, had a special place in a burdened heart, and they needed him.

Guzzling down the now lukewarm coffee, he stood, stretching his back. He needed to find his family.

_To be continued…_

* * *

**_a/n: Thank you to all the amazing people who have read so far and left a review. I am truly humbled! The final chapter will be uploaded soon._**


	4. Part IV

**Checkmate**

By ProfessorElk

_Disclaimer_: The NCIS characters mentioned below are not mine and no profit has been made in the writing or posting of this story.

_Summary_: Set after 12x11 "Check." Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs." "Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.

_Spoilers_: Set after NCIS episode 12x11, "Check." General spoilers for the previous NCIS seasons as well.

* * *

**Part IV**

The air was crisp, light with a bite to it, and fresh. He inhaled deeply, trying to reign in his emotions, looking out to the area around him. The sunlight glistened off of the white marble stones scattered across the green lot. It was quiet and peaceful, although his soul felt anything but.

An arm wiggled its way around his, the two appendages linked. A head rested against his arm, the black lace parasol not the first giveaway of who was now next to him.

Drawing his eyes down to the sparkling stones in front of him, he said quietly, "You shouldn't be here Abbs."

"This is the only place I should be." Her cheek nuzzled further into his arm. "I owe it to them."

His eyes watered. Loathe as he was to admit it, even to just himself, it had nothing to do with the bright sunlight dancing across the pristine headstones and burning his eyes.

Taking another breath to calm himself, he resorted to his usual brusque persona. That was safe in a growingly unsafe world. His world. "Where the hell is Dorneget? Go back to the car."

He tried to pull her back up the slope to the waiting dark blue sedan, glancing around nervously, looking for anything out of place. Anything that screamed danger.

She was stronger than he had foolishly given her credit for, and she remained rooted in place. "No, Gibbs."

She gestured to the engraved stone in front of them, "They can't be here for you now."

Her blunt but honest words cut through his already damaged heart.

"But I can. I'm not going anywhere. Not until you're done and we go together."

"Fine. I'm done. Let's go." He tried once more to pull her up the slope. Unsuccessfully.

"When was the last time you visited them?" She reached down to brush aside some leaves and dried grass from when the maintenance worker last mowed the lawn. He could not help himself but to watch the tender gesture, the black lace glove more than likely being poked through to the hand underneath by the debris. She placed a single black rose in front of each stone, flowers he realized he had not noticed she had brought with before. He was slipping, and that scared him.

She noticed his expression and instantly misinterpreted it. "I didn't know what flowers to bring. I thought of something bright and cheerful, they say that yellow is the color of friendship. But when I was looking at the bouquets, it just didn't seem right. I don't know when I'll come again, but I wanted then to know Abby was here. You know, like I couldn't be here with them in body, but I was here in spirit."

He sighed. He was tired, more tired than he remembered being for a long while. Everything had taken its toll. Too much loss, too much suffering too close together. "They're beautiful, Abbs. I know they'd appreciate them."

Pulling on her arm gently, he tried once again to lead her up the hill. She stubbornly planted her feet, shooting him a glare. He sighed in exasperation.

Kissing the tips of her fingers, Abby gently pressed the lipstick stained appendages to the tombstones in front of her, remnants of the dark purple makeup staying behind. With one final look back, she linked arms with him once more and allowed herself to be ushered back to the awaiting car above.

He was met by the flustered face of the agent. "Agent Gibbs, I'm so, so sorry. I thought we were just going to get some CafPow but then Abby wanted to come here with or without me -"

"Boss, what Dorney is trying to explain here is that Abby was coming no matter what and in his professional opinion as her guard, he had no choice than to come with."

It was a feeble excuse, one that normally would not withstand the wrath of his glare. Despite himself, he could not help the small smile that came to his face when he heard that voice. It seemed for a time that he would never again hear words come again from the other's mouth. Right arm in a brace and sling, cuts and bruises that were fading to a sickly yellow, Tony DiNozzo stood before him leaning against the agency sedan with the same grin that he usually sported. The one that purported his own cleverness and self-appreciation for his charm.

"You should be home. Resting." He tried to sound firm, but he knew his agent saw right through him. They had been together long enough, had been through enough together, that they could read one another easily. This was just another instance that had strengthened their bond.

"I am, resting," he clarified. "I got to go on a very restful car drive..."

He glared. Tony just widened his mischievous smile.

"And what's your excuse?" He turned to the youngest agent, seated in the front passenger seat of the agency sedan. She flinched under his stare, not yet hardened against his moods.

"I, ah, promised Jake that I'd keep my feet up," Bishop smiled weakly, "and then I remembered that the agency cars reclined really far back and I thought that might help."

She shifted in her seat under his scrutiny, unable to hide the wince the action caused. The van's seatbelt had caused one hell of a bruise.

"We leave, now," he commanded. He felt too vulnerable out in the open, with them out in the open. His agents, his kids. His family.

"Not yet." He stared down his agent, not liking the defiance. The other man looked back, unflinching.

"We pay our respects," Tony nodded down to the gravesite he and Abby just left, "and we wait."

Tony stared back at him calmly, and slowly he began to feel his heart's burden begin to lessen without really understanding why.

"Wait for what?" he asked impatiently.

A bing from Abby's purse echoed through the otherwise quiet lot. The spark in Tony's eyes ignited and he gestured toward the forensic scientist. "For that."

She answered her phone with a triumphant smile, holding the device to face them so they all could see. He could not help but let out an exasperated sigh.

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I am resting," came the indignant reply, unknowingly echoing what was said only moments before. "I haven't left this bed for days, Boss."

The tired and strained face of Timothy McGee greeted him through the tiny device, the buttons and levers above the hospital bed visible through the image. Video call, he remembered Abby referring to once.

"Whatcha got for us, McLaidUp?" Tony cut straight to the point.

Tim smiled, the lines of pain that had haunted his face since he had awakened disappearing momentarily. "I have a lead."

His breath halted.

"You have a lead?" Tony asked, clarifying. Hopeful.

"I was able to trace his position by bringing up the processing code – "

"McGee!" He felt momentarily guilty as he watched the younger man startle, flinching in obvious pain.

"I think I can find him, Boss," Tim said simply, sinking back into the bed's pillows, energy waning. He knew it was too soon for his agent to be putting so much stress on a barely healing body. But he could not help but feel the tiniest flutter of excitement. Teach that bastard to shoot his agent. Instead of deterring him, Tim was even more determined to find him.

"We're coming to you," Tony replied, taking the lead. "Take a nap before we get there, Tim. You've earned it."

Tim's exhausted face broke out in a content smile before Abby pressed a button on her phone ending the call.

His mind was whirling with possibilities as Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "You took a stupid risk," he stated to his agent, "bringing everyone here." He watched as Dorneget held the door of the sedan open for Abby.

"Yah, well, you weren't too into letting us meet together at the office, or anywhere else. Figured we'd find you here and we could all finally talk."

Tony waited until their gazes met. "Michnev made a really big mistake, Boss. He underestimated us, and it'll cost him. We'll get him."

He gestured back down to the two headstones below the incline. "Go say what you need to. We'll wait."

He just stared at his agent, until Tony gestured again, this time his look more forceful. He felt his feet move on their own volition down the slope, heart finally starting to feel more whole than it had in a long while. He stopped in front of the two stones, crouching down so he was closer to them. So his words could only be heard by them.

"Hey," he started, not quite sure what to say. Instead, he mimicked Abby's earlier motions, brushing off nonexistent dirt and debris from the stones.

"Tim says he can find Michnev," he reported. "If anyone can do it, that kid can."

He stared at the inscriptions, rereading the words that were not only etched in stone, but were etched in his heart and memory as well.

"Wish we could have had a happy ending," he whispered. "I won't let Michnev ruin this like our time together was ruined. We'll get him."

Standing up with determination, he cast one last look at the gravesites, at his girls. "I'll be back when this is over."

Looking up the slope, at his agents, his family, waiting for him by the cars, he felt his resolve grow. Michnev was a dead man walking. "Checkmate," he whispered.

_The end_

* * *

**_a/n: Thank you to all who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story. The response has been amazing and I so appreciate your support. Thank you!_**

**_I have a few ideas in the works, so hopefully they will be ready to share with you in the near future. Ideas and suggestions for the next adventures are always welcome as well._**

**_Thank you all, again. Until next time everyone!_**


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